If You Ask Me, I'm Ready

my enemy
outstretched
falling from my sleeves
im holding my fears in my hand
far away from my mind
'cause
the only fear i want this close
is you
as we build this foundation
of friendship
first
but i should tell you
in this molding of earth
you're leaving footprints on my chest
impressed on the left
slowly beating the first letter of your name
see...
you're the first to create a path of your own
through my deep forest of dying trees
you always saw the beauty in me
and paved your way right to it
planting seeds in the places where i've
been trampled with B's and S's
tip-toeing over them with the kiss of U
its sweetness
curving the taste of my bitter past
revealing that there is
a fruitful future
ripe with possibility if you just
wait for it

"My Stuff"...A Poem That Doesn't Matter

pay attention to me
the language my body speaks
reveals me powerfully weak
manifested through my strong posture and
my rigid stance
cant you see that?
damn
my verbal cues dont even provide clues huh?
blatant expression
ignored
hushed loudly
because how i feel
doesnt matter
im an adult, not a child
yet you still consider me the latter
and projectingly deny any piercing persecution
of your words
because you hid from yourself the truth
and purposely forgot where you put it
while lying
in plain view to me
here it is
right on my spirit
weighing down who i am and
stifling my voice
its silence
struggling to resonate through the oppression of darkness
but you could care less
because what i have to say
doesnt matter
my words penetrate nothing but your middle finger
and what am i supposed to do with that?
i cant say fuck you back
so i choke those words with captured cries instead
killing two birds with one stone
'cause God forbid i ever let tears fall from eyes
you'll only wipe them dry
with patronizing tissue
hallmarked with your favorite words:
"let it go...that's your stuff"
never allowing me to acknowledge my feelings
because you dont accept them
they're invalid
foreign in your state
of mind
not authorized to be bartered with compromise
since your availablilty of understanding is insufficient
and this
is why
this
is why im built so tough
a learned defense against my grandmother's "stuff"
and on top of that
she didn't hug me that much
nor uttered the words "i love you" enough
those words
only exchanged on special occasions
therefore
conditioned unfamiliar to the articulation of my tounge
uncomfortable to even whisper
because emotions
have never been a valid response
their existence
nonexistent
along with all of
"my stuff"
all of
me
because who i am
never mattered